Orange Squeeze
by HypnoticMemories
Summary: Bella Swan finds herself drawn to the stringent, new quality control manager, Edward Cullen, at her orange juice company. Their love/hate interactions over oranges leads to lemons. This story is a collab between me and xlavendermoonx. O/s...ExB/M/AH


For the Sake of OJward Contest:

Written by (pennames): _undelvedinterpretations_ and _xlavendermoonx_

Title: Orange Squeeze

Pairing: Bella and Edward

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the original Twilight series characters. We (Shena and Susie) just mess

with them.

* * *

_**BPOV**:_

"Ten minutes, Miss Swan."

"Okay, Jake. Thanks," I responded as Jacob Black, Plant Manager here at Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc., gave me a friendly nod and quietly closed my office door behind him.

That gave me ten minutes to finish reviewing the most recent sales figures before I would meet our newest addition to the company, Edward Cullen.

Jacob had hired Mr. Cullen last week, and he started work as our new Quality Control Manager just yesterday.

Since I, Bella Swan, was the sole owner of Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc., I made it a practice to meet with all the new employees as soon as possible after they started working for me.

I pushed back my long, chestnut-brown hair and opened the third-quarter sales file.

"Fuck," I swore out loud as I scanned through the data. The numbers clearly indicated a recent drop in sales and left me with a fresh set of worries.

The damn bastards over at Stanley's Grove appeared to be solidly kicking our asses in sales of orange juice in all forms: no pulp, some pulp, extra pulp…. Maybe we needed a _'so much pulp you need a spoon to drink it'_ variety?

I slammed my laptop shut just as I heard a light knock on my closed door. I hurried over to open it, smoothing out my black mid-length skirt and teal-colored blouse as I walked.

Opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of a . . . male model?

I looked past the utterly beautiful man that stood before me to see where my new Quality Control Manager could possibly be. But nobody else was in the long corridor.

I bit my lip and blinked curiously at the man standing before me. Could this be Edward Cullen?

"Hello, I'm Edward Cullen," the male model suddenly said, amusement evident in his eyes.

I reached out to shake his outstretched hand and cleared my throat. "Hello, I'm Bella Swan, sole proprietor of Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc. Welcome to our company." I reluctantly pulled my hand away from his very warm, very firm grasp, and added, "Please, come in."

Gesturing towards two plush leather chairs in the corner of my office that afforded us a great view of our expansive orange groves, I said, "Have a seat, Mr. Cullen."

While Mr. Cullen was taking his seat, I tried to remain collected and act like I was not affected by how amazingly gorgeous this man was with his bronze-colored hair, stunningly-deep emerald eyes, and - from the firmness I could see beneath his black dress slacks and white button-down shirt - finely-chiseled physique.

I took my seat and slowly crossed my legs. Mr. Cullen averted his gaze, but not before I took note of his eyes traveling from my four-inch heeled black pumps, up the length of my exposed legs, until he reached the hem of my skirt.

"Please just call me Edward," he said softly as he continued to stare out the window at the acres of orange groves ten floors below us.

"How do you like working for our company, so far, Edward? And what are your thoughts on our quality control department?" I asked, genuinely interested in his response.

Edward Cullen had very impressive credentials, and Jacob had informed me Mr. Cullen believed in only the absolute _highest_ quality standards.

Edward looked over at me warily and hesitated before answering. "So far, I like working here, Miss Swan."

Curious about his hesitation and wanting to put him at ease, I replied, "Please just call me Bella, Edward." I couldn't help but smile my most flirtatious smile. "And, your thoughts on our quality control department," I pressed.

Edward cleared his throat. "Well, Bella, I hate to say this so soon in my employment here, but I already see some clear quality violations."

I bristled at Edward's somber tone of voice and worse, by his assertion that my company wasn't up to snuff.

Even though I was paying him to ensure Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc. offered the highest quality product out there in the marketplace, it was somewhat insulting to hear that he felt we weren't doing so.

Maybe it was ridiculous, but, for some reason, I wanted Edward Cullen to be dazzled by my company. Truth be told, I wanted Edward to be as dazzled by my company as I was with him. Maybe that was what angered me the most.

I took a defensive tone and answered in my most condescending tone of voice, "I appreciate your honesty, Edward, but really, how can you make such a statement after only one full day on the job?"

I arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

Edward smirked and challenged me. "Bella," he stated slowly, "Let's just say I know _my _business."

"And I know _mine_," I countered.

I glared at him, ignoring his striking features. In fact, his good looks were getting on my nerves now. Especially since I was feeling even more wildly attracted to him as we bantered back and forth, despite his incredibly smug attitude. Oh, that . . . and the inconvenient fact that he was my employee.

"Obviously not when it comes to quality," Edward mumbled under his breath, but loud enough that I would hear.

I was outraged. Was he being insubordinate or brutally honest? Whatever the case, he shouldn't be allowed to look so good while being so . . . so . . . _whatever_ he was being.

I tapped my expensively-clad foot in agitation. Edward eyed my legs lasciviously, and he didn't even have the decency to try to hide it, this time.

Now it was my turn to clear my throat. But, instead of meeting my eyes with a look of embarrassment at being caught ogling my bare legs, he actually threw me a boyishly mischievous grin.

I was not amused. Or, maybe I was.

"Are you insinuating I don't know my own company?" I asked.

"I'm sure you know your company, Bella," Edward replied patronizingly. "However, I am only suggesting you may not know as much about quality control as_ I_ do."

"That may be true," I conceded. "But, Edward, are you really suggesting we've been lax in our standards when it comes to quality?"

Edward leaned in dangerously close, and my breath caught in my throat. "Bella, I'm not _suggesting_ anything. I'm telling you outright that your quality here, pardon the expression, sucks," Edward said in a hushed voice as his eyes held mine.

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words with Edward's beautiful face only inches from mine. So I closed my mouth and swallowed hard.

Edward leaned back, victory in his posture.

_Not so fast, Mr. Cullen. _

I stood and marched towards the door. "I think we're done here, Edward," I said dismissively as I turned my back on him.

Quickly, Edward was at the door, unmoving.

I crossed my arms across my chest defensively as Edward stopped abruptly and turned towards me.

"I'm only doing my job, Bella," he said quietly while casually leaning back against the closed door and running his fingers through his hair.

I knew he was softening only because he believed he had won. Maybe he _was_ correct in his observations, but I wanted to have the last word.

"Mr. Cullen, the bottom line here is about profits," I began as images of the sales data I had been looking over flashed in my mind. "We put out an excellent product and not a single person has _ever_ gotten sick," I declared triumphantly.

Edward Cullen unflinchingly held my gaze as I glared at him, daring him with my eyes to 'top that.'

Edward turned away from me and opened the door, but paused. He then began to walk away, but under his breath, I distinctly heard him mutter, "Yet."

"What a condescending _asshole_!" I mumbled as I watched him disappear down the long hallway.

I turned my back to him, and kicked the door closed with my expensive black pump, and walking over to my desk in angry contempt. I could not believe that Jake didn't see this before he hired him! I sighed and slumped down into my office chair, leaning forward to place my forehead in my hands.

I had done everything _possible_ to ensure quality and production ease in this business. In the years since I bought Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc., there had _never_ been so much as a _scare_ in the output products. Every single carton that had passed the lips of the recent quality controllers was deemed 'consumable.' What made his lips sour at my juice? Finest oranges, the best and most expensive equipment. I even went so far as getting ergonomic packaging for my product! I took pride in my work. In my _business_.

I sighed again and wiped my palms across my forehead in disgust.

His deep emerald eyes haunted me as I thought back to the smirk on his face as he had spoken to me; his good looks and chiseled, lean body upright and confident. I laughed. Even lost in my memory, my body instantly reacted to his features.

_Damn it_.

I shook my head and brought my hands down to close the open profit file still on my desk. I reached over to lift the laptop lid up, and tried to forget about the mess I was in.

It was nearly six o'clock when I finally closed the lid of my laptop. I stood and stretched my legs as I reached over to shut off my desk lamp. It was almost dark outside; the only light reflected in off the big window that faced the front facade.

A moment later, I was slipping the key back into my purse and heading down the hall.

I pressed the elevator button when I got there, but it did not open. They usually suspended the elevator operations after four.

"Shit," I sighed, turning and heading through the door labeled 'stairwell.'

My four-inch heeled pumps were murder on my feet as I walked down ten flights of stairs to the ground level.

"Late night, Miss Swan?" Mike, the security guard, asked me, tipping his hat and smiling.

"I lost track of time. I seem to do that a lot now. Sorry, Mike," I apologized.

"Ah, but tonight you're not alone." He smiled pleasantly.

"Huh?" I replied.

Mike pointed his finger behind me to the Quality Control Room. My eyes shifted downward as I glimpsed a ray of light pouring through the bottom of the door. Normally, the quality control workers and the factory floor workers were gone by three.

"Is someone in there, then?" I asked, looking back to Mike for confirmation.

Mike shrugged. "I will be back," I stated, turning and walking over to the door.

I grasped the knob in my hand and turned it. It opened easily. I walked inside and scanned the room. Beakers, and velocity and opacity machines littered the tables, and an open container of Swan's Sweet OJ stood on the counter. A stool lay tipped over in the middle of the room. There was no sign of anyone.

"Hello?" I called out. "Is anyone still here?"

The faintest of moans fell upon my ears as I scanned the room again. The second moan was louder; more intense.

"Mr. Cullen?" I asked. That was a voice I could not forget. "Where are you?"

I saw him then; hunched on the floor in a heap, a wastebasket in his grip. He was pale and sweaty, and his eyes were glazed. He moaned, and then proceeded to throw up in the waste can.

I cringed at the vomiting, and then walked over and bent down so that I could get a good look at him. He appeared to be quite ill. Sweat poured from his face, and he was so white, he looked almost ghostly.

"Edward! What's going on? You don't look so great," I said as I narrowed my eyes at him, in an effort to appraise him.

"Your fucking orange juice," he blurted out, and then vomited once more into the waste can.

"Orange juice? You think the _juice_ made you sick?" I questioned, my tone making my disbelief apparent.

He nodded. His hands slipped off the waste can and he pressed his sweaty palms to his stomach.

"Contaminated," he wheezed out from his trembling lips. "Quality sucks," he chuckled softly.

"It's late, Edward. You should really go home and get some rest. You can call in sick tomorrow if you need to…" I trailed off.

The look on his face scared me. It was deathly pale, and his face was sweating severely and profusely. He looked like he was about to throw up again.

"I don't-I don't think I'm going to make it home, Isabella," he said. The formal use of my name sank my heart. He was quite ill, and I really didn't have a choice.

"Come on. I will drive you home. Where do you live?" I asked him.

He smiled a feeble smile and winked.

"I knew you wanted to come home with me. I could see it when we met this afternoon," he joked.

At least, I _thought_ he was joking.

"Enough with the jokes, we have to get you home," I sighed. "Forget it, I guess we can go to my house for now," I suggested, not even thinking about it.

I looked at his face once more and noticed a small dribble of orange juice on his chin.

"Let me get that," I said aloud, taking the sleeve of my blouse and wiping his lips and mouth. I leaned in close to make sure I got it all. "There. Now let's get you up," I said, standing and lifting him by his sweaty hand.

It took all his effort and mine to get him upright. He was unsteady and weak on his feet. He leaned on me as we walked out of the quality control room and into the main lobby.

"Could you please turn the light off in there and lock the door, Mike? Mr. Cullen is not feeling well, so I am going to take him home," I informed the security guard, who nodded.

Edward and I made our unsteady way to my car, which was parked right outside. Edward leaned on the side of the car as I opened his door. I helped him inside and slammed the door shut, and then walked to my own door and got in. I glanced over at Edward, who was staring weakly at me.

"What?" I asked him.

"Excellent quality, my _ass_," he sneered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "I feel like shit," he said as I threw the car in reverse and headed home.

"And tell me why you think it was my juice that made you sick," I commanded of him. He groaned. "No, please, enlighten me," I said, rolling down his window so he could get a bit of air, and so he wouldn't throw up on my leather seats.

"Your '_good quality,'_ as you like to say, is in fact, _shit,_" he remarked, no trace of softness in his voice.

"Did you know that you have enzymes in this juice that are ten times more than the next leading brand?" he huffed. I rather thought he sounded like he was making a sales pitch for the other company.

"There is nothing wrong with that. It's perfectly safe for people to consume. Those enzymes-"

"-can cause people to become ill if the orange juice isn't properly handled. It can cross-contaminate with bacteria on the equipment or people's hands . . . so many enzymes poses far more risk!" he bellowed, sitting up in his seat and turning around to look me in the eye. His eyes, however, made a detour down my teal blouse and to the full, firm breasts underneath. His eyes traveled down to my flat stomach and back again to meet my furiously dark eyes.

I was going to tell him to go to hell until I remembered that he was ill. I looked at his face, which was partially hidden in the darkness. I could see his full, red lips. It reminded me of the orange juice I had cleaned off of him a few moments ago. When I was cleaning his lips and chin, I'd had the urge to reach my tongue out and taste the sweet juice that had dripped; to suck in the nectar of his glistening wetness with my lips. I found my eyes wandering to his ripped chest; the white shirt taught around his frame. My eyes wandered lower to the fabric of his pants.

"Miss Swan-" he started.

I shook my head and snapped my eyes up to meet his cold, irritated pools of liquid green. I quickly pulled my face into 'bitch mode,' and balled my fists up on the steering wheel.

"I know how to run my goddamn business, Mr. Cullen! You were hired-"

"—hired to make sure quality is up to snuff. Apparently though, Miss Swan, your quality is the lowest I have ever seen!" His chest rose in angry heaves.

"You've been here for _one _day, Mr. Cullen. You cannot, as I previously stated, judge anything in that short amount of time! I don't know _what _made you sick . . . maybe it _was_ the orange juice you taste-tested, but that is one glass, Edward. One glass," I said, turning from him and looking straight ahead.

"That's all it takes, Bella," he said softly, turning from me. "Why are we stopping?" he asked when the car pulled to a sudden halt.

I pointed to the huge house on the hill in front of us.

"Home, sweet, home," I replied.

I got out of the car and slowly walked to his door. He already had it open. I reached down and helped him out of the car by the waist. In the darkness of evening, in the swaying of the orange trees in the distance, I led Edward Cullen up to my house. My sanctuary.

We were nearly at the front door when he stopped to vomit. I had to get him inside. I had to get him to clean himself up. It was with the last bit of effort that we made our way up the steps and to the front door.

With the kick of my expensive black pumps, once inside, the front door closed. And I was alone in my house with Edward 'the quality freak' Cullen.

The next morning, after calling my secretary, Angela, and telling her to cancel all my meetings for the day, I handed a very ill Edward Cullen the telephone.

"Here," I said as I jiggled the phone in front of the pale form under the blankets of the large, king-sized bed in my spacious guest bedroom. "Call Jake and tell him you're too sick to make it in today."

Edward took the phone from me and began to dial. "And don't tell him _why_ you are sick," I added vehemently. "…or _where_ you are."

Edward shot me a devilish look, filled with suggestion. "So I shouldn't tell Mr. Black I'm in your bed?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're not in_ my_ bed, Edward," I said exasperatedly. "You're in my guest bedroom. Or are you so delirious with fever you can't figure out _where_ you are?" I added sarcastically.

Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Edward whispered, "Bella, let's just say, If I had been in _your_ bed last night, _you_ would be the delirious one this morning . . . and it wouldn't be because of a fever."

I heard Jake's voice on the other end of the line, so I couldn't reply to Edward's comment. I narrowed my eyes at him instead as I listened to him tell Jake he'd be off the next day or so because of the flu.

I shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, and then stood up. Being so close to Edward, even under these conditions, was starting to have an effect on me - one that I wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"I'm going downstairs to make some breakfast," I said as Edward was hanging up the phone. "Do you think you'd be able to keep down some toast?" I asked.

"Yeah, probably," Edward answered, while running his long fingers through his messy, but still incredibly sexy-looking, hair.

I pried my eyes away from his fingers in his hair, unable to meet his gaze. I knew I was blushing, so I quickly left the guest room and headed down to the kitchen.

My mind wandered to thoughts of Edward Cullen as I poached an egg for myself and toasted two slices of bread for Edward.

He had been really sick last night that much was certain.

After I'd gotten him up to the guest room, which wasn't an easy task considering his weakened physical state; I had helped him slide under the covers. His clothes had been drenched in sweat, but I didn't dare take them off of him. Mainly because I didn't trust myself.

There was no use denying it any longer. Despite his cocky, condescending attitude, I was falling for Edward 'quality freak' Cullen.

Even sweaty and sick, his good looks knew no bounds. There was just no getting around the fact that Edward was exceptionally handsome.

As I finished my egg and placed the toasted slices of bread on a small plate, I wondered if Edward planned to take a shower any time soon. I knew he had to be feeling kind of gross since he was still wearing, and had slept in, the same clothes he had on yesterday.

Before he had drifted off to sleep last night, I had informed him that there were some men's clothes in the closet that had belonged to my ex-boyfriend, Riley. He and Edward had similar builds, so I assumed the clothes would fit. In fact, I was sure the clothes would look far better on Edward.

I looked down at my own attire, faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, and worried that all this way-too-comfortable-with-each-other-way-too-soon behavior could only lead to trouble.

But, apparently, I was drawn to trouble, so I pushed the guest room door open with my hip and stepped in to find . . . no Edward.

Where was he? I placed the plate of toast on a side table, noticing a pair of men's blue jeans and a grey long-sleeved thermal shirt lying out on the bed.

_Edward must be in the shower_, I thought. But why was there no sound of running water? I stood outside the closed door of the adjoined bathroom, debating what to do.

I knocked lightly. "Edward, are you in there? Is everything alright?"

No answer. I knocked more frantically. "Edward?" I yelled.

I heard a groan coming from the other side of the door. "Bella?" a weak voice called out as I opened the door without further ado.

Holy crap! Edward was sitting down inside the shower, his bare back pressed against the steamy inside surface of the frosted glass shower door.

I hesitated. Edward was obviously naked. The steamy warmth of the bathroom was starting to make me sweat.

Maybe it wasn't just that.

Maybe it was the sight of the subtle ripple of Edward's back muscles as he tried to get up from the shower floor.

I, rather reluctantly – if I were to be honest, grabbed a towel from the rack to my right and said, "Hold on, I'm getting you a towel. Are you okay?"

"I think," Edward began, "I started to feel dizzy after showering. I just need to sit for a minute."

Holding the oversized towel close to the shower door, I said, "Here's the towel. I promise I won't look." Even though I really kind of, sort of wanted to look. Hell, no 'kind of, sort of' about it. I really fucking wanted to look.

So I did - just as Edward slowly slid his back up the still-steamy surface of the shower door, giving me a great view of his firm ass once he was standing. Edward turned and opened the shower door, but I saw the smirk on his face through the frosted glass before the shower door was even fully opened.

He was well-aware I hadn't averted my gaze, as I had promised.

My mouth fell open as my eyes drank in the beauty before me.

Tiny beads of water covered Edward's strong shoulders and firm chest, more so on the bronze-colored hair that lightly covered his chest. His waist tapered to a perfect v-shape, accentuated by his lean, but tight, six-pack abs. My eyes traveled down a sparse trail of more bronze-colored hair, to where it grew thicker. I gasped aloud as I stared at his huge, thick, swollen, and throbbing—

"See something you like, Bella?" Edward asked in a low, husky voice.

"Huh?"

A warm, wet hand gently tilted my chin up to look into his smug face. _No wonder he's so smug_, a tiny voice said inside my head. Yep – the man had a lot to be proud of, no doubt about it.

"Bella, are you okay?" Great – now Edward was asking me what I was supposed to be asking him.

His warm, wet thumb caressed my cheek, while he grabbed the towel from my other hand, wrapping it around his waist. And, unfortunately for me, covering his very impressive, er, _asset_.

Backing me away from the shower door, and stepping out, Edward said questioningly, "Bella?"

In response, I reached up and ran my fingers over the light stubble on his cheek, before my eyes met his.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Edward," I said softly as I moved my hand to the smooth skin at the back of his neck.

I watched as Edward swallowed hard. He then pulled me to him, my t-shirt dampening from the wetness on his chest.

Looking up at Edward, a myriad of emotions passed in the depths of his emerald eyes. I couldn't discern all of them, but I recognized a sense of uncertainty and lust. Definitely lust.

I closed my eyes and tilted my face, waiting. Within seconds, Edward's hungry lips were on mine, moving with insistence and urgency. I matched his enthusiasm as I kissed him back.

Edward's hands were in my hair; my hands were skimming down his back, over smooth skin and hard muscles.

Just as my fingers reached the towel around his waist, Edward pulled away without warning, breaking not only our kiss, but all body contact.

_What the fuck? _I thought to myself. "What the fuck?" I asked aloud.

Edward looked sheepishly at the floor. "I'm sorry, Bella. I just don't think this is a good idea."

What? _What?_

Frustration and a feeling of rejection colored my next words. "Maybe you should have thought about that _before_ you kissed me, Edward?" I said icily.

"You're right," he said softly while still looking down, "I acted on impulse. That was unprofessional of me. I apologize."

"Is this about you being my employee?" I asked, incredulous since I thought we were past the point of business-only.

Hell, the man was staying at my house while I nursed him back to health. So what if my nursing included a little extra. Although, it had already been apparent Edward was a stickler for rules. He demonstrated that with his attack on my company's quality control procedures.

"Well, is it?" I pressed when I didn't get an answer.

"Partially, but not really," Edward admitted.

"Well then what is it, Edward? Is it me?"

His apologetic gaze met mine, "Not at all."

I tapped my bare foot impatiently on the cool, marble floor of the bathroom.

Edward sighed and I noticed a tiny trickle of water, or maybe it was sweat, trail down his pale forehead. "Maybe I should just go. I feel a little better."

Edward wasn't well enough to leave, and he didn't even have a way home. His car was still in the company parking lot. Besides, I didn't want Edward to go.

"You can't go, Edward. You're still too sick. You said yourself you got dizzy in the shower…" I trailed off, thinking it best to divert the conversation away from the shower incident.

"Please, stay," I said so softly I doubted he would hear me.

But, apparently, he did. "How can I say no to you?" he whispered, his eyes locking with my own.

"You just did a few minutes ago," I reminded him, still feeling stung by what I perceived to be his rejection.

A look of full comprehension crossed Edward's face. He reached out and took my hand, raising it to his lips.

"It's not that I don't _want_ you, Bella." Warm, feather-light kisses peppered my hand. "I want you, believe me, I want you," he said, chuckling. "But I want to be with you when I'm well. Not like this." He motioned with his free hand to his body, which only served to bring my attention back to his hotness, and make me ache in areas that had been dormant since Riley's departure.

"_Now_, do you understand?"

I nodded, elated with the knowledge that Edward did want me, after all.

I backed away a step and smiled a ghost of a smile. He reached a hand down to make sure the towel was secure, and smiled back.

"I'll go get you a glass of juice while you dress," I said, then hesitated. "It's orange . . . I'm sorry."

He chuckled softly, and then brought his wet hand up to cup my cheek. "No matter, that's fine. It isn't _your _brand is it?" he teased, curving his mouth into a grin.

I looked up into his emerald eyes that reflected back my own chocolate brown ones and slowly shook my head. He chuckled softly; an amused, musical tinkle that was husky and incredibly sexy.

"After all the years of smelling our oranges and smelling the packaging, I can't bring myself to drink it, anymore." I shuddered.

The smile fell from his face and his hand dropped from my cheek. He stepped back and looked at me studiously.

"You don't drink your own product?" he asked, his eyes accusatory with their piercing gaze.

"No. Is that a problem, Edward?" I asked, not letting the confusion I felt slip out and give me away.

"You have been defending your company's quality so vehemently, yet you have not had a _sip_ of it to know just what the _fuck_ you are talking about!" he spat nastily at me. "You can't be serious!"

"I drank it before, Edward, and the quality was just fine! I only recently stopped drinking Swan's. And I would thank you to lower your tone of voice in my own damn house!" I shouted in agitation.

"You brought me—" he started to say, but I didn't hear the rest. I walked over to the bathroom door and slammed it shut, leaving his half-naked—_gloriously half-naked_—body behind.

I stomped out of the room and down to the kitchen on the main floor. I mumbled incoherently to myself as I opened a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and slammed it onto the counter.

What happened? Things seemed to be going . . . respectable? What was his_ problem_?

I only knew that I would not be spoken to like that in my own home. He was a _guest_, and right now, an _unwanted_ one.

I opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice of the next leading competitor. Sure, it wasn't very business-like, drinking the competition, but it beat having to smell the ink on our packaging. I poured until the glass was full and replaced the carton. Kicking the fridge door shut, I grabbed the glass and made my way back to the guest room.

"There is your toast, Mr. Cullen," I told him, pointing to the plate.

He was dressed now in faded blue jeans, and I had a good view of his bare, ripped chest, visible due to him not wearing a shirt. His wet, darkened hair stood out against the light wood headboard as he sat up in the bed. He watched me sit the juice on the night stand beside him, and then I felt his hand clasp over my arm.

"I think your perception of quality is different from mine, Miss Swan. I do not, in all the years I have been doing this, know of any owner that has not tried their own product line to ensure quality," he said, not unkindly, but with a hint of matter-of-fact vibration in his voice.

"It sounds as if you're calling me an unfit owner, Mr. Cullen. While I don't test my own juice, I do hire people to do that. I need a professional opinion. Mine would be based simply on the fact that it tastes good. Not whether it is fresh and safe to consume. Your insinuations bruise my ego, Edward," I told him as I started to get up. He yanked me back down onto the bed, hard.

"That is not what I am saying at all! While you're not the _'hands-on'_ type of owner, I don't think you're unfit. Could you please, for one second, _stop_ putting words in my mouth?" he sighed and raised his free hand to run through his hair, still darkened by moisture.

"There are other people who would love to do your job, Mr. Cullen. If this is the problem I foresee us having in the future, maybe it would be better if you looked for other employment," I whispered. I wanted to take the words back as soon as they floated from my mouth.

"What? Please, no, Bella. Listen, I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm still dizzy and not feeling right, just yet. Just forget about my stupidity," he pleaded softly, rubbing his palm on my arm.

I turned to see his eyes soften and his lips quiver slightly. He looked sincere, and I nodded. He smiled at me and then sunk back against the headboard.

"Here," I offered him the glass of juice. "Drink this. It will help you get your strength back."

I tipped the glass against his waiting lips. I watched through the glass as they opened slightly to allow some of the juice to flow down his throat.

"Whoa. Save some for later," I chuckled, pulling the tumbler away from his lips.

I turned away to sit the glass on the night table, and then fixed my gaze on his face.

"There's that fucking orange juice again!" I blurted out as I took in his lips.

The wetness on his lips glistened in the dim light of the room; reflecting the nectar that laced his lips and made me lick my own.

"What?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Um, you have . . . there is . . . you have orange juice on your mouth," I giggled, pointing to his lips and looking at his bemused expression.

"Oh," he said, reaching up with his hand to wipe it away.

"Allow me," I offered.

I scooted closer and brought my sleeve up to his face. Edward suddenly grabbed me roughly and smashed me to his solid, ripped chest.

"Not with the fucking sleeve, Isabella. I don't want to feel _fabric_ on my lips, I want to feel _you_ on me, _all over me_," he demanded huskily, his hot breath hitting me in the face and making my mind go blank.

"Not while you're sick, remember?" I breathed out softly, looking into his eyes, fueled with desire. "You said earlier-"

"Yes, I remember," he sighed. "But there is only one issue with that at the moment."

"What issue?"

"That I just don't give a fuck anymore," he replied, crushing his lips to mine with such heat and intensity that my eyes watered.

My response was instant and powerful. My hands shaped themselves to his chest and stroked the smooth skin as our lips intertwined. I slurped at the juice that was trapped between his lips; sucking it in with sweet delight. His sticky lips clung to mine as he deepened the kiss; his tongue poking through and finding mine. The dancing inside our mouths began to make the V between my legs ache with longing.

Edward moaned huskily into my mouth, his hands finding the nape of my neck and pushing me even closer to him, until I could feel his straining hard-on against my belly. It was too late to turn back now. I wanted Edward in every way. And, by the way his lips tethered themselves to mine, he felt the same way.

His hands released my neck and traveled over the swell of my breasts, causing a moan to escape my lips as they continued to press into his chest. Suddenly, with a protest groan from Edward, I broke the wild kiss and reached over to the night table.

"I think it is only fair, under the circumstances, to bask in the quality of things," I told him, holding the glass, with an ample amount of juice still in it, so he could see it.

"Bella . . . w-what…?" he stammered. "Oh," he breathed out as I poured some of the cold orange juice from the glass tumbler onto his perfect, lean chiseled abs.

His eyes locked on mine as I licked my lips with longing and need.

"You don't mind getting a little sticky, do you, Edward?" I teased, replacing the glass on the night table.

The shaking of his head and the smile on his face was all I saw as I dipped down to collect the juice that was shining brightly; both in the light of the room and in the irises of my excited brown eyes

Long, deliberate strokes of my tongue followed the trail of juice that had trickled down Edward's abs and pooled into his belly button.

Edward slid down lower on the bed and I felt his hands tugging at the hem of my shirt, which I allowed him to lift and pull over my head, breaking my contact with his delicious, juice-covered skin.

Edward's mouth found mine once again as he unhooked my bra and tossed it onto the floor.

Warm, sticky skin pressed against my stomach. Hungry lips pushed my eager mouth open as the taste and smell of oranges filled my senses, once again.

Edward moaned and snapped open the top button of my jeans with ease. I pulled at his jean buttons in return until, one-by-one, they opened, revealing Edward was going commando, here. Not that I was complaining. In fact, it just made things easier.

Sliding my hand into Edward's open jeans, I groaned in need as I felt his hot, throbbing hardness beneath my hand. I curled my fingers around the shaft and stroked upwards, eliciting another moan from Edward, as well as a quick unzip and pushing down of my own jeans that left me clothed only in my black thong.

With a little help from Edward, I pushed his jeans down to his ankles, and then pulled them off completely.

Crawling back up the length of Edward's long legs, I stopped at his hips. I reached again for the glass of juice, poured some onto Edward's hard shaft, and bent down to lick . . . _every . . . single . . . drop_.

Needless to say, this required a level of thoroughness that made Edward buck his hips and rasp out my name.

Eventually, Edward flipped us over so that he was now above me.

A tiny drop of water from his darkened, wet locks fell onto my cheek, where Edward quickly kissed it away. Edward tugged at my thong. I lifted my hips so that he could slide the thong down my legs very, very slowly.

My breathing hitched when I realized Edward now held the glass of orange juice directly above my own aching heat.

"What's fair is fair," he said slyly. "Now spread your legs, Bella," he commanded in a thick tone of voice, as he gently nudged at my closed legs with his knee.

I readily opened my legs, and was greeted with the coolness of the juice as Edward poured it over my wetness, and then, the heat of Edward's tongue as he lapped at the mixture of orange juice and my own juicy wetness.

"God, Edward," I screamed out as his tongue worked me over until I was at the apex of ecstasy.

"Delicious," I heard him murmur from between my quivering thighs, smacking his lips noisily.

I arched my back; Edward positioned himself between my legs, his huge hardness grazing at my slick folds.

He leaned forward and cupped my right breast with one hand, circling the nipple with his thumb, while he reached for his wallet from the night stand with his other hand.

I closed my eyes and heard the rip of a condom package, before Edward settled back between my legs, twitching hardness at my core.

"Look at me, Bella," Edward said, his face now within inches of mine. He brushed my hair, wet with perspiration, away from my forehead.

I ventured a glance at Edward, his eyes danced excitedly while he shot me a crooked smile that left me dazzled and wanting.

"I want you," I whispered.

"I want you, too, Bella. But are you sure you want to do this?" All traces of teasing were gone from his voice.

I nodded and shifted my hips so that he could _feel_ just how much I wanted to do this.

Edward closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and pushed into me.

"Ohhhhhh," my shaky voice uttered as _all_ of Edward's massive girth and length filled me completely.

Edward stilled and I heard a whisper at my ear, "Are you okay, Bella?"

"God, yes, don't stop," I moaned.

Our movements, slow and fluid initially, began to pick up speed and intensity as our breathing became labored. Our bodies, slick with sweat and sticky from the juice, pressed and slid together as one until I felt myself reach the point of no return, for the second time. Edward soon followed, and, at last, we lay spent in one another's arms.

Edward slipped out of the bed only to go to the bathroom for a minute and then returned to my arms.

As he played absently with my hair, I asked Edward, "How are you feeling?"

He hummed out a sleepy, "Great."

"I mean," I started hesitantly, "…with your food poisoning-thing."

Edward chuckled. "You mean with my_ juice_ poisoning-thing. And, to answer your question, I'm feeling better, but that may be just post-, you know…" He trailed off and motioned to our naked, intertwined bodies with his hand.

I immediately stiffened and pulled away from his embrace, sitting up and crossing my arms to cover my bare breasts. "Are you still hung up on my orange juice quality? Even after_ this_?" Now it was my turn to motion to our naked, no-longer-intertwined bodies.

Edward's eyes darkened and flashed with anger, and, for a moment, I was a little bit intimidated. And aroused. Again. Angry Edward 'quality freak' Cullen was actually quite hot. Maybe that was why I kept pushing his buttons. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew it probably had been my juice that had made him sick. I felt a tiny bit of guilt over that, as well.

So, I conceded. "Okay, Edward, _maybe_ it was my juice—"

"Was? There's no question about it, Bella," he interrupted.

I stood and started to get dressed, because, even though my body still wanted more Edward – bad, my mind was too pissed off at him to stay in the same room.

"Where are you going?" he questioned, in exasperation, as I finished pulling on my jeans and slipping the t-shirt over my head. I glanced around the room for my wayward bra, but it was nowhere to be found.

"Anywhere you are NOT, you bastard," I yelled while I stalked around the room searching for my bra, tears of frustration welling up in my eyes.

I glanced up at Edward, who looked more confused than ever at my outburst, as I dropped to my knees to lift the dust cover and look under the bed. There it was. I reached for my bra and brought it to my eyes to wipe away the tears that were starting to fall, betraying my all-over-the-place emotions.

I knew my emotions were a wreck because of all that had occurred over the last twenty-four plus hours: meeting Edward Cullen, finding out he was a 'quality freak' that hated my orange juice, being so attracted to him, his getting sick from my orange juice (maybe), letting him recover at my house, and, highest on my list of 'stupid things I've done,' letting him_ fuck_ me.

Because now, if he really wanted to, he could really _fuck_ me. Like with a big sexual harassment suit.

As the last two thoughts crossed my mind, I burst into sobs, sitting on the floor with my knees pulled up and my arms wrapped around them.

I felt movement beside me, and then Edward's arms were pulling me to him until I was seated in his lap.

"Bella, what's wrong? Talk to me, please." His voice was soft and soothing as he wiped my tears with his thumbs.

My breathing hitched, but I made no move to speak.

Edward asked, "Is it because of what we just did?"

I nodded sheepishly, because that was a big part of it. "You hate my company, and now you can bring it down with a sexual harassment suit," I sobbed.

Edward was so quiet that I dared to take a peek at his face. His eyes betrayed a mixture of hurt and surprise.

"Bella," he began, voice barely above a whisper, "I would never do something like that to you. And I don't hate your company. I like your company, that's why I came to work for you. I only want to do my job and help you put out the best product possible." He kissed both sides of my face, licking his lips as my salty tears fell upon them.

Edward continued, "And as far as a sexual harassment suit, Bella, it's not harassment if we both want to be with each other." He paused. "It may be poor judgment on both our parts, but it's not something I would ever regret."

"What do you mean by poor judgment?"

"I just mean that having a relationship could make work difficult, for both of us," Edward explained.

There would be talk. But I was the owner of the company, and really, I could do anything I wanted. I answered to nobody. However, I didn't want Edward to feel uncomfortable at work, especially since he was new at the company.

"We don't have to tell anyone," I offered.

Edward began to place tiny, orange-sweetened kisses down the side of my neck. "Yes, it can be . . . our . . . little . . . secret," he said between kisses.

"Edward, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. About the quality thing, I mean," I apologized, leaning forward to kiss his lips when he pulled back to look at me.

"Shhh. You kind of made up for that about five minutes ago, Bella," he smiled. "But now," he said, standing up and pulling me with him, "you and I are sticky. How do you suggest we fix this?"

I caught the mischievous gleam in his eyes as I crushed myself to his chest. I stood on my tiptoes to reach him and hungrily kissed his chin.

"Well, what did _you_ have in mind, Mr. Cullen?" I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

He groaned. Picking me up by my waist and roughly pulling me against his hips, my legs wrapped tightly around him. He walked us to the bathroom, his lips crushing mine in panted urgency. Still supporting my weight, and not breaking the kiss, he leaned over and turned the shower on.

"I think_, Boss Bella_, that we need to cool off," he panted, breaking the kiss and looking at me. "As far as being sticky, I think we will just be getting stickier." He punctuated his thought by leaning in to kiss my neck.

I moaned softly. He stepped inside the shower as the water fell and groaned when my heat grinded against his rock-hard shaft.

"Edward . . . dressed," I managed to gasp out as the pulling started in my belly.

I was still dressed in my jeans and shirt, and the water was making my puckered nipples visible through the thin material of my shirt. Edward, as if noticing this, looked down and smiled.

"And clothing is going to stop me from showing you the quality of _my_ juice? I don't think so, Isabella," he replied, roughly pushing my body against the side of the shower.

"But my-" I started.

He reached up, once my weight was supported by the shower wall, and effectively ripped the thin material from my chest and flung it to the floor outside the shower.

"I assume my orange juice will still contain vitamins for energy?" I quipped before his lips crushed mine.

His hands shakily went to my jeans button for the second time in twenty minutes. When all the clothing was finally on the floor with the ripped shirt, and I assured him I was on the pill, he entered my folds and pumped his shaft furiously. My moans and his mixed in between fevered kisses as we floated into ecstasy; the water slick and slapping between our bodies.

It was a little while afterward, when we were sitting in the tub and the shower continued to pour lukewarm water around us, that we spoke again.

"I found you incredibly sexy the afternoon I met you, Bella," Edward whispered. "Probably the sexiest business owner I have ever encountered," he said, brushing my hair gently away from my face.

"Do you tell all the women you meet that?" I snickered, kissing his hand as it passed my lips.

He chuckled softly and shifted. I could feel his semi-softness on the back of my thigh.

"No, Bella. I knew when I first saw you that you were something special. There was…" he paused, "…a connection; young, attractive, ambitious. I could tell that when I told you the quality sucked, it hurt you. I didn't want it to, but I was only being honest. I take my job very seriously, Bella. I wish you could see that," he sighed.

"I do see that, Edward. And don't think I didn't notice you, either," I said, pulling his hands around my waist and leaning back on his chest. He kissed the top of my head.

"I am very defensive about my company, Edward. I don't like thinking that I run just another crappy orange juice stand. I do care about my customers and workers. That includes them not getting sick," I replied, closing my eyes and tilting my head slightly so he could rest his chin on it.

"I know. And it hurts me to say this, but you can't allow that shipment to go out, Bella. If it made me sick, imagine the other people who could potentially become ill," Edward whispered.

"It was an accident."

"You don't have to explain that to me, darling. I know. And, as much as you think this of me, I do not think you're a bad, negligent owner. Things like this happen. But, maybe if you looked closer, this could explain the drop in sales. People could be getting sick, just not reporting it."

"Edward," I said, shifting to my knees and turning to look him in the face, "There is something that maybe we can both benefit from. I mean, for the companies sake. And then you wouldn't have to be so uncomfortable with our relationship . . . I mean, if you wanted this," I motioned between us with my hand, "…to be a relationship, even when we're at work."

Edward leaned up and reached around me to shut off the pounding water. His eyes lingered on mine for a moment before his index finger coaxed my face up.

"'_If you wanted this to be a relationship?'_ Have I not made it clear before? I want to be with you, to be a part of you. Why would I not want you? Want this? Correct me if I am wrong here, but we just gave ourselves to each other. We got lost in our own world, Bella. I want you, believe me," he said, reaching his lips to touch mine with the softest of touches. "Now, what is it I can benefit from, besides being with you?"

I hesitated. The idea I had could potentially make the company a bigger success than it was. But it could also potentially destroy the relationship that seemed to blossom in the hours since we'd first met. I trapped my lip in my teeth.

"Spit it out," Edward commanded, pulling my lip free.

He looked a little worried. As if I might tell him something so bad that he needed to brace for impact. I sighed, and then spoke.

"What if—_and just hear me out_—I let you go into partnership with me? Like, half owner? That way, you could ensure the quality was up to par—and let's face it, you _are_ a quality freak—and then you wouldn't have to feel so weird around me at work. You would be an owner, as well, and you could do whatever the hell you wanted." I stopped to let him soak this in.

His expression changed a number of times before he settled on 'confused.' His lips curved inward, and his eyes closed briefly.

"Edward?"

"Absolutely not!" He roared. "Stupidest idea ever!"

"But why? Edward, would you open your eyes and look at me?" I asked desperately.

He opened his eyes and sighed. He got up from the tub and stepped out, leaving me alone on my knees. I could hear him getting dressed in the bedroom as I finally pulled myself up and stepped out of the bath, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on. I reached over and snagged the thermal shirt off the bed to wear, since Edward had ripped my t-shirt.

"What's wrong? Edward?" I pleaded. "Is it me? Did I upset you?"

He turned to me and smiled a half-smile. He walked over to me and pressed his hands to my shoulders.

"I can't. There are a_ lot_ of things wrong with that. First, I know nothing about owning a company. Second, I am sleeping with you. Do you know the gossip that will spread if I suddenly become owner and people find out?" He wasn't amused.

"It's not about us, really," I tried to reason. "It would be to help my company, Edward. You said it yourself! The sales have dropped. Please! Please, Edward! Consider it," I begged him, as I crushed myself to him as if he were going to disappear and leave me.

He looked at me with wide eyes.

"How can you plead with me this way? You know it drives me crazy," he said, placing his hands around my waist and roughly pulling me even tighter against him. He was silent for a moment as he looked into my pleading eyes; then opened his mouth to speak again.

"If I do this, it is just for the company's sake, right? Whatever you and I have, it stays outside of the business. I don't care about feeling weird at work, because I know when the day is done, when the lights go out there at the plant, I will be with _you_, Bella," Edward whispered. "And that is the most un-weirdest thing, _ever_."

I nodded, and his lips hovered over mine.

"Well then, partner . . . where do I sign?" His lips crushed mine and his hands fell to my ass, where they rested as he placed a trail of kisses down the length of my neck.

And that, my friends, is how Swan's Sweet OJ, Inc. gained a co-owner, and how I coined a new nickname for my 'quality freak' boyfriend, Edward Cullen - Swan's Sweet OJward.

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A/N:

Dear Susie, It was an amazing, rewarding pleasure working with you on our first collaboration. The story was enhanced by your writing style, and your ideas. Thank you for the wonderful opportunity to work with you and I do hope we do this again.

Find susie's other writings under her penname: xlavendermoonx

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_**Thank you for reading. Please Review...**_


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